Imager

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Might I ask why?”

  “I would deny that to most junior imagers, Rhennthyl, but I will answer you on two conditions. First, you are never to repeat my answer to anyone, and after this meeting, not even to me. Second, you will make an honest attempt to explain to me why I am allowing you this liberty.” He looked at me. “Do you accept those conditions?”

  There was more there than I knew, but I also needed to know. “Yes, sir.”

  “Floryn’s life was at stake, but what he did not understand is that his and every imager’s life is at stake every moment of every day. Now … it is not arrogant to believe in one’s true capabilities, but it is arrogant for an imager to declare those capabilities publicly, and it is unacceptably arrogant to overstate one’s capabilities, particularly when we exist on the sufferance of the people. Floryn was incapable of speaking without revealing his arrogance, and arrogance from junior imagers does not set well with masters, particularly not with Master Jhulian, who was serving as justice. I tried to coach Floryn as to how he should speak, but his anger was so great that anything he said would have ensured his death.”

  “Was he a talented imager, sir?”

  “Almost as talented as you may become, if you work hard at it.” He paused. “Why have I let you ask this?”

  The answer was obvious. It was also painful. “Because I could become arrogant, as Floryn was.”

  “Not quite. You would never be as blatantly, flagrantly stupid, and you are not the type to boast. You could be the type to boast to yourself and to act in anger, but in subtle and cool arrogance, when you feel yourself wronged or disregarded. How did you feel when you did not win the journeyman’s competition last Ianus?”

  “Wronged,” I admitted, even as I wondered how he knew that, because I’d never mentioned it to anyone at the Collegium. “My work was better than those that won, and several masters admitted as much indirectly.”

  “Then why did you not win?”

  I wanted to blurt out that they had played favorites, but there was more behind it, and Master Dichartyn would not have asked the question if there had not been. “I would guess that part of the competition was to determine who would follow the traditions and the unspoken rules of their guild.”

  “If that were so, then did you deserve to win?”

  “I deserved to win on artistic merit, sir, but not if the prizes were to be given on blind compliance with unspoken rules.”

  Master Dichartyn nodded. “You don’t like to admit that, do you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What happened to you there is the same everywhere else. All groups, whether the guilds, the Council, the High Holders, or the Collegium, have both formal rules—and these can be spoken or written or both—and unspoken rules. The unspoken rules must be observed and deduced by each member of the group, and in large part, acceptance and success depend on recognition of and mastery of those unspoken rules. Young people usually understand that such rules exist within their own groups, but many have a harder time accepting that other groups have such rules and that at least some of those rules may differ greatly from the rules they have already learned. Often they get most angry when the rules of those older and more powerful do not follow their preconceptions.”

  “Floryn didn’t like it?”

  “He came from a part-taudis background where one has to boast and overstate to be respected. He could never overcome that early training.”

  “What early training do I need to overcome?”

  Master Dichartyn laughed, somewhat sadly. “I cannot say with certainty. I would judge that you need more to overcome your rebellion against early training. You may have become an artist because you disliked the constant counting and use of coins as a measure of success. Yet that is the measure of success in commerce, and you must accept the fact that such is the case with most people. Taxes and tariffs on commerce support all of Solidar, as well as the Collegium. Most people can reckon only with numbers, and they measure their worth by comparing their possessions and coins against those of others.”

  I would have to think about that.

  “Rhennthyl … I have another question. All techniques and questions about imaging, beyond the very basic exercises that you’ve already had, are handled in private discussions and exercises with a master. Why do you think this is so?”

  “You want to see what we can do when no one else is around. That would keep others from getting hurt if I did something really wrong.”

  “You could hurt me.”

  “No, sir. I don’t think so. You wouldn’t give us the instruction and tools if you didn’t have some way of protecting yourself.” I paused. “I don’t know if I understand about obdurates, not after … yesterday. I mean … how can they … protect against …”

  He just smiled. “There are two kinds of imaging. The process is the same, but the effects are not. If you try to change the way someone looks or their physical being through imaging, it will not affect an obdurate, and if you’re strong enough, the slightest suggestion will change a malleable. Most people won’t be affected, and the effect usually won’t last unless the imager is a master, generally a higher-level master. That is not the same as if one uses imaging as a weapon, if you will, but to do that, one must be able to see …”

  I understood. The obdurate guards might have been close enough to be affected by personal shaping imaging, if they were not obdurates, and the blindfold provided the rest of the protection. “Are imagers obdurates to some degree?”

  “Almost always, but there are a few who are not. You are definitely not one of those.” He cleared his throat. “Now … if we might return to my question. Are there any other reasons why we instruct you alone without others present?”

  “You want to keep control of the situation?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It could be that with more imagers around …”

  This time, he shook his head. “No, one of the reasons for the isolation is for your protection. I can protect myself. You can’t yet. What if another junior imager made a mistake?”

  “Oh … I should have thought of that, sir.”

  “After you thought of my being hurt, you should have. One of the problems that young men have is that while they can think of what may happen to others, they don’t think how their actions or those of their peers may result in great injury to themselves. Think of it this way. After the hearing, didn’t you worry that someday some master might charge you with some offense?”

  “Ah … yes, sir.”

  “Did you think about the fact that if you avoided doing unwise or prohibited acts you wouldn’t have that worry?”

  I hadn’t, not really.

  “You see?” He raised both eyebrows.

  “But, sir … most of us have done things we regret or worry about, sometimes before we knew better …” I wasn’t quite sure what I was suggesting was wise, but I had to know.

  He nodded slowly. “That is true for many of you, generally for the most gifted, such as you. You are referring to the unfortunate death of your previous master, are you not?”

  I just sat there, stone-cold. I shouldn’t have said anything, and yet …

  “You’re surprised? I receive copies of all the patroller reports in L’Excelsis. We look at them carefully where deaths and strange occurrences are involved, particularly when a younger person is involved. It is often suggestive. Very few of the most talented imagers do not have a death or an injury to another that has come from their discovery or development of their ability. The only question is whether they worry about it or suffer for it. Those who do not suffer, or understand that they should, are useful only for the Army or the Navy, or for the machine works, for they have no restraints. I’m glad you brought the matter up, and even gladder that you did indirectly, at least indirectly for one who is not experienced in indirection.”

  “You knew and let me become an imager?”

  “Had you not come to us, Rhenn,” Master Dichartyn sai
d quietly, “within the month, you would have been found dead on the street. You had the wisdom to understand what you had become, and the strength, even with the worry you carried, to cross the Bridge of Hopes. Why do you think it is called that?” His smile was wry. “Hope is always an expectation beyond anticipated reality, is it not?”

  Put in that light, I had to agree with him. I nodded.

  “You have learned what some never do. What you have not learned, but will, is that you will always bear the costs of what led you to become an imager, one way or another.”

  I had the feeling that he might be right.

  “Next Vendrei, at the noon meal, Master Poincaryt will include your name among those imagers being promoted from primus to secondus.” He smiled, but the smile vanished almost immediately. “Now that we have taken care of those issues … define a philosophical proposition for me, by its structure.”

  I had to think about what I had read, but some of the dread I had carried for weeks had lifted. Some of it.

  24

  Those who believe consider themselves blessed; that is their consolation and their burden.

  The first Solayi in Avryl, the first of the month and the last day I was actually restricted to Imagisle, Mother came to visit me. The afternoon was partly cloudy, but the morning had been sunny, and the air was pleasant. Her coach crossed the Bridge of Hopes right at the first bell of the second glass of the afternoon. I was waiting just off the bridge on the isle side, because that was where the Manual stated visitors should be met.

  Charlsyn eased the coach into the waiting area, but he avoided looking directly at me as I stepped forward and opened the door.

  Mother stepped out, and I offered her a hand, because there was no mounting block, although the gray granite curbing was somewhat raised above the paving stones. She wore a long black skirt and boots, with a short maroon jacket over a cream blouse, with a pale green scarf and maroon beret-style hat. In her own way, she made it all look good together.

  “You’re looking well, Rhenn.” Her smile was practiced as she inspected me, and wider after she saw no obvious faults in my dress and deportment. “The gray does suit you, although it is a bit severe. The cloth of the waistcoat and trousers looks to be choice wool.”

  “I hadn’t noticed, not exactly.”

  “Well … your father will be pleased to know that. It’s a good grade for imagers, very fine, but not ostentatious.”

  “Master Dichartyn will be pleased to hear that.” As soon as I spoke, I wished I hadn’t said it that way, and I quickly added, “He feels imagers should never be arrogant or ostentatious.”

  “You should listen to him. No one should be.” She smiled, and a twinkle appeared in her eyes. “I’ve even suggested that to your father once or twice, but don’t tell him that I told you so.”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.” I couldn’t help but enjoy the thought of her suggesting that he was arrogant.

  We strolled down the walkway to one of the stone benches. Mother produced a small towel from somewhere and dusted it off. “It never hurts to be prepared.”

  “You’re prepared for everything,” I said with a smile.

  “One can never prepare for everything, but when one prepares for what one can, it’s much easier to deal with the unexpected.”

  “There’s some truth in that,” I conceded.

  “So nice of you to admit that, dear.”

  I winced. “I’m sorry.”

  She straightened herself on the bench. “Rousel and Remaya will be arriving on Jeudi. Will you be able to come for dinner on Samedi, or will they need to come to see you here?”

  “I’ll be able to come on Samedi. This is my last weekend to be restricted to Imagisle.”

  “Good. I’ll send Charlsyn with the coach. What time would be good?”

  I didn’t want to spend too long with Rousel and Remaya—or Father—but I didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “I’ve always been free by the third glass of the afternoon.”

  “Should he meet you here?”

  “I could meet him on the other side of the bridge. That way he wouldn’t have to cross and turn the coach.”

  “That’s settled, then. It will be so good to have everyone home. You know that Remaya’s expecting in late Juyn?”

  “I knew it was sometime this summer.”

  “She is a lovely person.”

  That meant that Remaya was far superior to her Pharsi background. “I knew that from the beginning.”

  “That may be, dear, but she’s far better suited to Rousel. She enjoys talking about trade and wool, and she likes it as much as he does.”

  Mother did have a point there.

  “Oh … I forgot to tell you. I should have written you. We have your painting—the one you entered in the art competition. Master Reayalt had it sent to us. Would you like it?”

  The guildmaster of the Portraiture Guild had sent my study of the chess game? But who else would have? “If you don’t mind … could you keep it until I’m a bit more … settled.”

  “We’d love to. I know just where I’ll hang it until you’re ready for it.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Tell me about being an imager … what you can, that is. I know that there must be matters you cannot discuss. What do you do?”

  “Study and practice, mostly. I suspect I’m getting close to a university education in science, chemistry, and philosophy.”

  “Don’t mention the philosophy to your father. He’ll like the rest. What else do you do?”

  “There are exercises in imaging, and I’m examined almost every day, except Solayi, by my preceptor. That’s Master Dichartyn. In the afternoon, I might practice something in the laboratories or workrooms, or study. I’m just been advanced to imager secondus, and starting tomorrow, I’ll have to learn more of what imagers do, but I haven’t been assigned yet.”

  “What does being an imager secondus mean?”

  “I get a little larger stipend, and I can cross the bridges to the city whenever I have the time, so long as I don’t miss any instruction or duties.”

  She nodded. “That’s good. Are you getting enough sleep? What are your quarters like? Do you have to sleep in a bunkroom like the soldiers?”

  I shook my head. “We each have our own rooms. They’re not large, but they’re comfortable, and the food is good. Not so good as at home, but far better than at Master Caliostrus’s.” Was my parents’ dwelling really home anymore? Had it ever been, really, after I’d left the grammaire?

  “I’m glad to hear that.” There was a long pause. “Dear … this may be presumptuous, but can imagers marry?”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “They can, but generally they have quarters on Imagisle or among other imagers, unless they’re very wealthy.”

  “I don’t see why …”

  “It’s compulsory, but I’m told that the quarters for those who are married are quite comfortable. Those who are older and have families live in houses on the north end of the isle.” I didn’t feel right about explaining the reasons beyond what I’d said.

  “Oh … I’ve seen them. They’re well kept, and stylish, but a trace small, I would think.”

  All I could do in response was shrug and say, “Since I’m not married, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Do imagers usually marry other imagers?” After a moment, she added, “That can’t be. There aren’t any women imagers, or not very many, are there?”

  “There are some. I’ve seen three masters who are women, and perhaps ten or fifteen who are primes, seconds, or thirds.”

  “Then when you can, you should get out and meet some eligible women, some of the proper background.” She paused. “You realize that Rousel was extraordinarily fortunate, don’t you?”

  What she meant was that most Pharsi girls would not meet her standards or fit in her world, but I only said, “I’m very aware of that. I can only hope to be that fortunate.”

  “A good background makes it far easier, as
I’m certain you know.”

  I nodded, and after that, we talked of friends, and family and how my aunt Ilena—Mother’s sister—refused to travel to L’Excelsis, even on the ironway.

  Then, abruptly, she stood, and I followed her example.

  “I must be going, dear. It has been lovely to see you, and to know that you are doing so well. I had my doubts, but I do think this imager business is for the best. Your father will be happy to know that.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek. “We will see you next Samedi.”

  I walked her back to the coach and watched as Charlsyn eased the team and coach around the narrow roundabout and back over the bridge. Then I walked back to my room and read—or tried to read—another section of Practical Philosophy. Many of the arguments there seemed anything but practical, such as the section that read:

  The ultimate philosophical principle is the advance from disjunction to conjunction, creating an entirely new entity other than the entities previously existing in disjunction …

  After struggling through that, I closed the book and made my way to the dining hall, where I did appreciate the comparative relief of the evening meal on Solayi. Then, I and all of the imagers at the Collegium went to what the masters called chapel, but it meant the services held at Anomen D’Imagisle. They were a glass later than those at Anomen D’Este, to fit the Collegium schedule, I supposed. As at all services, we stood throughout—except for a handful of graying imagers emeritus, who had two special benches on the left below and forward of the pulpit. A small choir of imagers offered the choral invocation, and they sang well.

  Chorister Isola was the only woman chorister of the Nameless that I’d ever seen, although I’d heard that there were others, because one could not know or presume whether the Nameless was male or female, or indeed both at once. Her voice did carry, and her soprano invocation following the choral one, wordless as it was, was far more pleasant than that of any other chorister I had ever heard. Then she opened the main part of the service.